


Written on my Wrist

by roseforthethorns



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Harry's death fix-it, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Smut, Soulmark AU, canon conversations, canon events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither Harry not Eggsy have ever managed to figure out who their soulmates are (despite the fact that they are each other's soulmates). But as they begin to figure it out, they both decide there is no way they could ever work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written on my Wrist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [esmerod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmerod/gifts).



> I've never done a soulmate AU before but loved the whole idea. I really hope I did it justice.

Everyone in the world has that one person who is meant for them; at least, that’s how it used to be.

The soulbrand has always been shrouded in mystery. No one knows how or why they develop, what causes a soul to know the name of its mate in any given lifetime, or why some very rare people have multiple names or none at all or even why the brand is in the handwriting of the soulmate. For Harry Hart, he grew up on stories of the magical individuals with unusual marks, be it Braille, Elvish script, or sign language. His mark appeared on the inside of his right wrist the day he turned thirteen. It felt like a white hot iron was being pressed to his skin (hence the name soulbrand) and he watched as in a slightly untidy scrawl the name “Gary” appeared.

He spent hours upon hours examining the mark in the coming decade. He traced it with his thumb until he knew every ridge, the precise degree of the slant in the letters. He stared at his brand until the name ceased to have even the slightest meaning before coalescing into a concrete idea once more. He spoke the name over and over again until even the sound of it on his tongue sounded like a lover’s caress. _Gary. Gary. Gary._

Harry had no problem with the prospect of a male soulmate. His parents, on the other hand, weren’t too pleased. The Harts were a well-respected family in the UK and would not settle for less than a nice, traditional family. This confused their eldest son who saw examples of real and pure love in his books, on the telly, and at school every day, love of all kinds that transcended all boundaries. Love is love is love is love. It didn’t matter the orientation or gender or preference to Harry. It was about the soul recognizing its other half. If that made him gay in his parents’ eyes, then he was gay; he could not admit it to his family, but he did always have slightly more of a preference for men regardless of his brand. Women just did nothing for him.

The young Hart was tapped as a Kingsman candidate straight out of University. He already excelled in sports like fencing and martial arts, and he was highly skilled in six different languages by the age of twenty-two. He secured the Galahad position effortlessly in his year of training, and it was during that year that he met the new tech wizard in training, the man who took the codename of Merlin not long after Harry officially joined the organization.

Even now Harry and Merlin enjoy reminiscing about their time as young lads new to being spies. They would have tea every week and discuss their work, and after a month, they became fast enough friends that Harry shared his soulbrand with Merlin. The Scot was one of the rare individuals to not have one, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Merlin’s hair had already begun to thin by then, and Harry’s hair was curly and unruly unless slicked down with quite a bit of product and combed within an inch of its life. Merlin was always inventing new gadgets and computer programs to bring the spies into the 21st century. Harry ran more successful extraction and undercover missions than many of the senior agents by the time he reached twenty-nine and the current Lancelot found a very tragic end in the Alps.

It was Harry’s turn to choose a candidate

***

Lee Unwin was a respectable middle-class man with a successful career in the military when Harry found him. He took a liking to the man’s down to earth nature, but what sold him was the man’s sense of humor. Even in dire situations, Lee would always have a witty saying or a well-timed quip that could dispel the tension and have the candidates laughing and at ease once more. It went without saying that Chester King did not approve of Harry’s choice, nor did he condone such “frivolous behavior.” It simply “wasn’t befitting of a Kingsman agent, but considering Lee’s upbringing and pedigree, it couldn’t be helped.” It took every bit of training and self-restraint Harry had not to punch the man in his smug, rich face. Kingsman needed new blood, and Lee Unwin had more than the necessary qualities for a perfect agent.

In the end, the Lancelot position came down to Lee and another young man named James. The two could not have been better friends in spite of their competition. Their friendship was nothing but platonic; Lee was a happily married man with the great love of his life, Michelle. They even had a son, Eggsy. Lee could spend ages talking about his son’s antics, and at the time of Lee’s final mission, his young boy had just turned six.

It was supposed to be a simple interrogation behind enemy lines, a final test in the field since most of the other agents were out of the country on various missions. Harry, James, Lee, and Merlin went out, but only three returned.

Harry blamed himself. How could he not? Lee had seen the grenade and thrown himself onto it, sacrificing his life for the good of the mission, his fellow comrades, and Kingsman. One selfless act that ended two lives and left Galahad wallowing in guilt.

“You’ll need to talk to the family, Galahad,” Merlin said quietly to his friend once they were back on the plane.

“I know. But how can I offer any consolation? She’ll have felt the soulbrand change at the moment of his death. She already knows. She must do.”

“Then you have to offer what you can. Perhaps a favor? She has a wee lamb with her. Maybe it can help keep him safe.”

Together they came up with the idea of the Kingsman medal with the number and “oxfords not brogues” as the password, of course, details that Harry mentally recited over and over again as he stood outside the Unwin’s door just a few days after Christmas.

Michelle was hysterical, unable to comprehend what Harry told her. She was understandably distraught, and when he caught sight of the inside of her right wrist, he saw what had happened to her soulbrand. Lee’s name hadn’t vanished; it had been struck through. The line was raised and red, fresh, but it was in the same writing as the rest of the name.

He turned to the boy sitting on the carpet and crouched down, smiling at him and trying to be a comfort. Eggsy didn’t seem to understand what was going on. He was playing with a snow globe that Lee must have gotten when they traveled to the Alps.

“What’s your name, young man?”

The boy looked up. “Eggsy.”

“Hello Eggsy. Can I see that?” Harry held out a hand for the globe, and the boy handed it to him politely. Harry shook it, more for the boy’s sake than his own. His feelings on Lee’s death still threatened to overwhelm him, and since Michelle had refused the medal… “You take care of this, Eggsy. All right?” He handed the little symbol on its ribbon to the boy, who nodded and stared down at it before looking back up at the man in front of him. “And take care of your mum, too.” Satisfied that Eggsy understood, he squeezed the boy’s shoulder gently and left, making it to the Kingsman car before succumbing to his emotions.

***

Eggsy’s memory of the man who told his mum that his father was dead faded into the background over the coming years. He kept the medal close though, and when the ribbon became too cumbersome to keep track of, he put the disc with the knotted “K” onto a chain and wore it round his neck. It was easier to hide that way, especially from his stepfather.

On the afternoon of his thirteenth birthday, Eggsy had felt the burning on his wrist and looked to find a very neat and tidy “Harry” written there. He loved to look at it and imagine what Harry might look at, and he had a year of happy daydreams and beginning to grow up before Dean Baker entered his life. Then those five letters became Eggsy’s only source of hope for nearly a decade.

To say that Dean Baker was an abusive bastard was doing a disservice to abusive bastards. The man was a proper cunt and no mistake, but Eggsy couldn’t understand why his mum didn’t see it. How was he supposed to help protect her when she had chosen her abuser and brought him into their home? Finding no solace in school or in his favorite activities (Dean had actually threatened to break his legs if he continued with gymnastics), Eggsy dropped out of everything until his marines training.

Six months. He managed to find six months of a reprieve with lessons in advanced weaponry, hand to hand combat, and physical training before his mum went mental and insisted he come home, that she couldn’t bear to lose another man in her life and wouldn’t. Even as a dropout and a juvenile delinquent, he held onto his soulbrand as a way of imagining his way out of his life. Harry had to be out there somewhere. He would meet the man one day and would escape this living hell. He would find a better home for his mum and his new baby sister, Daisy. He would get a proper job and care for them and live with the love of his life forever. He would. He had to. This couldn’t be all there was.

And then he stole the car.

***

_ Present Day _

Eggsy sits in the holding cell and stares defiantly at the officer across from him. He refuses to say a single word until the man leaves; he’s never squealed and won’t start now. A little panicked about the prospect of eighteen months of jail time, he pulls out the medal. He examines the number on the back and makes his decision. Picking up the phone, he dials the number and listens as it rings once. A woman picks up on the other end. “Customer complaints, how may I help you?”

 _What the fuck?_ “Um, my name’s Eggsy Unwin, Sorry, er, Gary Unwin, and I’m up shit creek. I’m in Holborn Police Station and my mum said to call this number if ever I needed help.”

“I’m sorry sir. Wrong number.”

No, this can’t be a wrong number. What was that other-oh! “Wait! Wait… oxfords not brogues?”

The words feel stupid even as he says them and the second of silence on the line is deafening, but the woman on the other end changes her tone. “Your complaint has been duly noted, and we hope that we have not lost you as a loyal customer.” The line goes dead, and Eggsy feels like a right prat. So much for help if he needs it…

… five minutes later he’s leaving the station, just walks right out with the charges dropped. He’s free to go. He won’t be rotting in jail for the next year and a half. He’s relieved, yes, perhaps a bit confused, but he’s not going to question it. He turns and heads down the stairs to head home.

“Eggsy.” He starts and turns around to see a posh man with an umbrella leaning against the wall. “Would you like a lift home?”

Uh huh. He doesn’t trust this at all. “Who are you?”

“The man who got you released.”

“That ain’t an answer.”

“A little gratitude would be nice.”

 _Who the fuck does this bloke think he is?_ Eggsy is about to tell him to sod off, but the next sentence changes everything.

“My name is Harry Hart, and I gave you that medal. Your father saved my life.”

 _Harry_. It takes all his self-control not to look at his soulbrand in that moment. Instead he stares in confusion at the man and accepts the lift home.

***

They stop at The Black Prince for pints on the way while Eggsy grills him with questions, none of which get satisfactory answers. Harry is mentally reeling even as he deflects the questions with ease. He maintains his calm demeanor only out of years of practice. Hearing Eggsy give his Christian name over the phone call had caused him to stop and look at his own soulbrand in a new light, and what he knows for certain is that he can never breathe a word. He will consign himself to a bachelor’s existence rather than put Eggsy through a relationship with him. How could things even work between them? Eggsy is the son of a former candidate that Harry managed to get killed in training, something for which he still can’t forgive himself. Harry is far too old for the young lad; he’s in his forties and the man before him is barely twenty-four. To top everything off, Harry is a spy and can’t reveal anything about himself to the young man unless Eggsy passes his tests and the year of candidate training at Kingman HQ and even then things are too complex and difficult and would never work out. So he chooses silence.

Eggsy watches Harry as they talk, trying to figure him out. The man is certainly mysterious, but he has to be rich. He’s wearing a bloody bespoke suit, for Christ’s sakes. There’s no way a suit that nice is off the rack. Harry insists on buying, and Eggsy isn’t one to look a gift pint in the mouth and polishes his off easily while Harry takes his time. He’s still half thinking about his mark and wondering if this really could be _the_ Harry whose name is marked permanently on his wrist, and if it is, why did it have to be a stuck up posh man? Someone who would never go for a street urchin like Eggsy, who would never even consider someone with a rap sheet for theft and vandalism and a propensity for winding up in trouble no matter what the situation.

When Dean’s goons show up and Harry hands their arses to them, Eggsy begins to change his tune just a little bit. The man may be posh, but he is _mad fit_ and dangerous; Eggsy’s always had a thing for the dangerous ones. He’s also very curious, especially when the man threatens his stepfather over some invisible speaker. Which is probably part of why he finds himself on Saville Row at sundown to meet Harry at the Kingsman tailor shop. He heads inside and finds the man nursing a whiskey by a fireplace. “I’ve never met a tailor before, but I know you ain’t one.” Tailors don’t have stun gun brollies and amnesia dart wrist watches for starters.

Harry finishes his drink and looks up at the lad. “Come with me.” He leads Eggsy back into one of the fitting rooms and stands by him in front of the mirror. “What do you see?”

 _Is this a joke? Trick question?_ Eggsy decides to go with his default humor. “Someone who wants to know what the fuck is going on.” It isn’t a lie, either. He really does want to know what’s up.

“I see a young man with potential.”

Thinking about it now, Eggsy would say that was the moment he began to fall in love with Harry Hart. _No one_ in Eggsy’s life had ever said anything to that effect, especially not a man. He can’t really remember his father anymore but he likes to think his father would have said something like that to him, and he’s hearing it now from a man who knew his father, worked with him, who his father had respected enough to sacrifice his own life in order to protect him. Eggsy stares at Harry and drinks in every word.

“A young man who is loyal. Who can do as he’s asked and who wants to do something good with his life… Did you see the film _Trading Places_?”

“No.”

“How about _Nikita_?” Eggsy shakes his head. “ _Pretty Woman_?” Still confusion from the younger man. “All right. My point is, that the lack of a silver spoon has set you on a certain path but you needn’t stay on it. If you’re prepared to adapt and learn, you can transform.”

Now _that_ is something Eggsy can understand. “Like in _My Fair Lady_.”

“Well you’re full of surprises.”

***

Needless to say, Eggsy happily accepts the opportunity to train and compete for the Lancelot position in Kingsman. He meets Merlin his first night there, as well as another candidate that he instantly likes: Roxy. This girl is a firebrand, and after no time at all, they become fast friends. It helps that she’s as equally disgusted with Poncy Charlie as he is. Roxy is unique in that she’s a rare individual who does not have a soulbrand, something that Eggsy asks her about within the first few weeks of training, the same day they get their dogs. He and Roxy are sitting outside under a tree, she with her poodle Archie, and he with his pug.

“I’ll admit I was disappointed when I turned thirteen and it didn’t appear. At this point, I think it means either my soulmate hasn’t been born yet in this lifetime, or they have name issues. Did you ever hear the legend of the person who changed their name so many times that their soulmate’s brand just gave up and vanished?” Eggsy shakes his head. “Well, I’ve taken that one as a sign of comfort. I have someone out there, but they’re well hidden. It’s all about staying positive, I suppose. How about you?” He shows her his brand and she examines it curiously. “Is this like Agent Galahad? Harry Hart?”

“Dunno. Maybe. I mean, I haven’ looked to see what his brand says, but I doubt very much it says ‘Eggsy’. Besides, he’s my mentor. That would be wrong.”

“Eggsy, aren’t you forgetting that soulbrands and soulmate bonds transcend social positions?”

“Yeah, but he’s… he’s Harry Hart. I’m just some London kid.”

“Do you really feel that way about yourself or are you afraid that he won’t be the one?”

Eggsy shrugs and cuddles JB a little closer. He’s already quite smitten with Harry, and it gets worse every day, but he won’t admit that to anyone but himself. “Come on. Race you back to the house.”

***

“Where is he? What happened?”

“Calm down, Eggsy. He’s in a coma, but there’s no sign of long term brain damage.”

The boy is breathless, having run from his lessons down to the medical wing of the mansion. Harry looks so horribly pale, hooked up to tubes and machines to keep him alive, monitor his brain waves and heartbeat. “Was he investigatin’ somethin’?”

Merlin’s lip twitches. “Now lad, that’s classified”

“When’s he gonna wake up?”

The handler frowns a little and sighs. “I don’t rightly know. If you want to spend time here, you may, but only when your lessons are done for the day, and no falling behind or you’re out of here faster than you can say ‘Whoops’.”

Eggsy nods and takes a seat by Harry’s bedside. He looks down at the man’s wrist and feels like his heart has stopped beating.

There, on Harry’s wrist and in Eggsy’s handwriting, is the word _Gary_.

***

It takes several months for Harry to wake up from his coma, and if it hadn’t been for Eggsy’s training, he’s not sure he would have lasted all that time.

Every day he comes down to spend an hour or two with Harry, describing his day or practicing his German or French, studying manuals on the different weapons they’re training with. Sometimes Roxy comes with him, and they will grill each other on vocabulary, tactics, reading maps, anything to pass the time in the hopes that Harry will wake while they’re there.

When Harry does finally wake up, Eggsy is bummed he’s not there to see it. He returns to Medical that afternoon and finds the man deep in conference with Merlin. Seeing Harry awake does something very strange to Eggsy’s stomach. It flips a little bit and he finds he’s grinning and nope, not blushing, stop it face. He’s waited so long to see the older man smile at him so kindly and it’s just a huge relief that the man is all right.

Eggsy decides that when he secures his position as Lancelot, he’ll ask the man out for a pint and talk to him about their soulbrands.

***

“How is your training going?”

Eggsy snorts. Like Harry doesn’t know. “It’s ace, guv. I love it.” He sips his tea slowly and sighs. “You make a really good cuppa, Harry.”

“Thank you, my boy. I was looking at your scores today. Merlin and I are quite impressed. I expected nothing less from you.”

These tea time discussions happen every few weeks, whenever Harry is back from work and has a few hours to spend with his candidate. Eggsy looks forward to them, especially since every time he sees the man, he falls a little more in love. He never says so and he always keeps his sleeves down over his soulbrand just in case. He’s not ready to discuss it quite yet.

“You have a great deal of potential, Eggsy. You could be the finest agent this organization has ever seen.”

The young man preens and sips his tea, hiding his blush and letting himself really hope for happiness for the first time in his life.

***

“You throw away your biggest opportunity over a fucking dog? And then you humiliate me by stealing my boss’s car?”

Shame and anger boil up in Eggsy so fast that he wants to hurt the man. He wants to scream and lash out and make Harry _see_ why he’d done what he did, why the man can’t bloody understand a _thing_ when it comes to him, especially the fact that it’s been a year and he’s not said _one thing_ about his own mark. So he latches on to the fact that no, he wasn’t about to kill JB. “You shot a dog just to get a fucking job?”

“Yes, I did.” Harry steps down to the landing and opens the door to the downstairs toilet. “And Mr. Pickle here reminds me of that every time I take a shit!”

“You shot your dog and had it stuffed? You fucking freak.”

“No, I shot my dog and then I brought him home and continued to care for him for the next eleven years until he died of pancreatitis.”

“What?” It’s too much, too confusing, there’s no way he has fucked up this badly. He can’t have done…

“It was a blank, Eggsy. It was a fucking blank. Remember Amelia?”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t drown. She works in our tech department in Berlin. She’s fine. Limits must be tested. A Kingsman only condones the risking of a life to save another.”

“Like my dad saved your life even though your fuck-up cost his. Or have you got him stuffed here and all?” There’s something very much akin to pain and shame in Harry’s eyes when those words come out of Eggsy’s mouth, and he suddenly wishes he could take it back.

“Can’t you see that everything I’ve done has been about trying to repay him?”

Harry’s glasses ring, and he takes the call, leaving Eggsy to stand there wallowing in self-pity and fear. He’s done it, fucked up so bad that he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to fix it. When the man turns around, Eggsy just wants to make things right. “Harry, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna do whatever-”

“You should be.” Oh fuck, the man looks so disappointed, so angry. “You just stay right there. I’ll sort this mess out when I get back.”

Eggsy stands there and watches Harry leave, hears the door close a little harder than is probably necessary, and feels his heart break. Everything he’s done the past year has been for naught. There’s no way Harry will forgive him for this. He can’t patch this up. They can’t be together

What he doesn’t know is that Harry is on his way to Kingsman HQ and feeling much the same things. He was too hard on the boy just now. How could he just walk away with Eggsy looking so distraught? He wants to turn the car around, go back and comfort him, but he’s also so disappointed with the lad. Eggsy is everything Kingsman needs right now and he’s thrown it away. All the more reason to finish the mission quickly.

Then he goes and gets himself shot in the head.

***

Eggsy can’t even find the tears to cry. He’s too devastated watching his soulbrand change, cross itself off like a name on a hit list. In his upset, he heads to Kingsman, determined to try and make amends, to try anything to make Harry proud of him in the afterlife.

The next twenty-four hours are a complete blur. Somehow, Eggsy manages to save the world, stop Valentine, not get himself killed, and return to the jet exhausted and quite bruised. He’s met by a firm hug from Merlin, and when they pick up Roxy, she squeezes the air out of him in her excitement. “You did a bloody fine job, Eggsy.”

“So did you, Rox.”

Roxy blushes pink and heads to the jet’s loo to wash her face, but despite Eggsy’s joy and relief at saving the world, he feels his own sadness creeping over him. The fact that his brand had changed when Harry was shot means that they really were meant for each other. He looks at his own wrist to see it, hoping beyond hope that it hadn’t really happened… and finds his brand changing.

“MERLIN!”

The man puts the plane on autopilot and comes running. Eggsy shows him his wrist. “It changed! It crossed off when Harry got shot, but it changed. It isn’t crossed off anymore!”

The handler heads back to the cockpit and begins putting in calls, quickly locating Harry in a Kentucky hospital. “They’re doing surgery to bring the swelling in his brain down, but once he’s stable they’ll fly him over to us. The bullet didn’t kill him, Eggsy. I’m sending Kingsman medics now.”

***

Two days later, Medical brings Harry safely back to Kingsman in an induced coma to aid his recovery and make the transport easier. Eggsy is there when the man arrives since he has refused to leave the wing, even after having his own exam and discovering that while his suit protected him from actual gunshot wounds, he has a fair few bruises and hairline fractures; he’ll be out of the field for a few weeks until they heal. He forgets all of it when he sees the older agent in the hospital bed. Harry’s skin is so pale that he’s nearly the same color as his sheets. Eggsy sits by the bed and slowly takes Harry’s hand, biting his lip as he turns it and looks at the wrist.

Harry’s soulbrand no longer reads Gary. It now says Eggsy.

He scrambles back from the bed, on the verge of tears; he knocks over the chair and brings Merlin running. The Scot finds Eggsy kneeling on the floor and crying. “All right, wee lamb. Up you get. He’ll be here when you get back.” He leads Eggsy to his office and puts the kettle on. “I’m making you a cuppa, and you’re going to tell me what’s troubling you.” Eggsy sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve; Merlin hands him a box of tissues. “Now. What’s this all about?”

Slowly, everything comes tumbling out. Eggsy manages to stop crying as he begins drinking his tea, but he confesses everything to Merlin. His feelings for Harry, seeing his brand change twice, seeing _Harry’s_ change. “And I can’t deny it anymore but we can’t be together, bruv. He won’t want me, and he’s never said anything about his mark or made a move and-”

“And you both are being ridiculous.” Merlin looks mostly amused at the young lad. “Eggsy, you just saved the world. Even Harry will be proud of you for that.”

“But what if he doesn’t wake up and I lose him all over again?”

“You won’t. At all. He’s already showing improvement in the tests and scans. Now he just needs times to recover.”

“He was so disappointed when he left for Kentucky.”

“Lad, look at me. You are going to be fine. He’s very fond of you.”

***

Eggsy keeps vigil at Harry’s bedside after that, waiting for the older man to wake. His fingers twitch after twelve hours, and after thirty-six hours, he manages to open his eyes and smile at Eggsy before falling back to sleep.

Three days into Harry healing, he wakes up, smiles at Eggsy, and squeezes his hand. “Hello, my boy,” he murmurs.

Eggsy’s eyes widen and his face breaks into a huge grin. “Been long enough, guv.”

“I’m rather tired, but I want to talk to you…” Harry falls back to sleep, but Eggsy can’t stop grinning.

***

It takes two weeks for Harry to manage to stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time. Medical’s prognosis is very optimistic, and much to Eggsy’s amusement, Harry is a horrible patient. He hates staying in bed and having work kept from him.

Once he’s able to make it almost a whole day with minimal headaches, Eggsy comes in for a visit and sits by the bed. “Harry… have you looked at your soulbrand since you woke?”

The man frowns, then looks. He nearly spits out his tea. “When did this happen?”

“After you got shot and before you got here. When Valentine shot you, my brand crossed itself out, but when we were on our way back, it had changed back to normal.” He shows Harry his mark. “And I can’t deny how I feel about you any longer because it hurts too much, and when you’re better and allowed to go home, I’m gonna take you for pints and maybe we can get through it without beating up a bunch of thugs.”

“Eggsy, my boy, I… I can’t. We can’t.”

“The proof is right here. What’s stopping you?”

“I knew your father, for starters. I’m far too old for you, and you deserve someone better. Someone younger, someone who can see perfectly out of both his eyes.”

“You’ve been without your soulmate for far longer than I have, and Harry, I bloody want you. I’ve wanted you since that day in the pub, the day you chose me. I don’t want to live without you anymore, and I already lost you once. I’ll be damned if I’m losing you again.”

Harry stares at the boy for a moment and then pulls him close, and suddenly, he’s kissing Eggsy, and the boy’s brain feels like it might combust. Harry’s lips are very soft but strong, teasing his own with the hint of more but not actually giving him enough to really be satisfied yet. As he kisses back, he feels his soulbrand heat, and when he hears Harry hiss, he knows the other man’s has as well. They pull apart and look down, grinning. Their names are a bright red and fading to a shimmering gold at the same time, the same color as the Kingsman symbol.

“If that’s not proof, guv, I dunno what is.”

***

Two months later, Medical finally releases Harry and lets him return home where he’s greeted by an enthusiastic JB and a smiling Eggsy. “How are your mum and Daisy doing?”

“Brilliant. They love the new place. Ta for helping arrange that too.”

“Of course, love.” Harry closes the door and pulls Eggsy into a gentle kiss. “I also have good news for you. I’ve been promoted. The table voted unanimously that I take over as Arthur. Which leaves a seat open. And I’ve appointed you. Congratulations, Agent Galahad.”

Eggsy’s eyes widen and he grins widely. “That’s _ace_! Oh bloody hell, yes! Harry, that’s bril!”

Harry chuckles and kisses the younger man again. “I rather happen to agree. And Medical has cleared me for everything. _Everything_.”

Eggsy stares up at him, joy turning to lust in a matter of seconds. “Really?”

“Prepare yourself, Eggsy Unwin. I’m taking you to bed. It’s about time I got to have my soulmate properly.”

The younger man grins and kisses Harry again. “About damn time.”

***

It turns out that Harry Hart is a dirty fucker when it comes to sex.

Eggsy runs ahead of him and darts into the bedroom, but when Harry walks in and closes the door, Eggsy feels his stomach drop into his shoes. The man’s eyes are dark and wanting, but other than that, he looks perfectly collected. The new Galahad is hard in his jeans in seconds.

“You’re a rather eager little thing, aren’t you?” Harry murmurs, walking around Eggsy slowly. “I would bet you’re excited about this, but after everything that has transpired this past year, I wonder if your manners are up to scratch. After all, manners maketh man, and I don’t accept any less than that in the bedroom.”

The younger man can barely think properly. Harry’s voice has dropped a half-octave and has a little growl in it.  “I-I think they are. Sir,” he adds hastily at the end. “Harry, what exactly is going on?”

The older man stops behind Eggsy and leans in to press a teasing kiss to his neck. “I’m going to take you apart,” he purrs and damn if Eggsy’s knees don’t buckle a little bit. Harry pulls the younger man close and kisses him deeply, and the boy knows his soulmate has been holding back until now. Harry’s kisses seem to spark every nerve ending in Eggsy’s body, leaving him gasping and clinging to the older man as his mouth seeks more of the delicious torture. Harry’s fingers are working their clothes off until Eggsy is stark naked and on the bed, leaving Harry in just his trousers. Using his discarded tie, Harry binds Eggsy to the headboard, smirking and kissing down his torso.

“You’re quite a fit young man, pet. All these muscles, so well-toned.” He presses open mouthed kisses to Eggsy’s chest and nipples, teasing the little nubs of flesh with his tongue and drawing startled gasps from the younger man. When both of Eggsy’s nipples are hard and aching with sensitivity, Harry begins to pinch and roll them, straddling Eggsy so the younger man can’t squirm away too much. “So responsive. This is going to be quite delightful. I would wager you’ve not had someone with my experience before.”

Eggsy tries to regain control of his brain so he can watch as Harry kisses down his belly to his proudly hard cock where it juts up from between his legs. He tries to rock up, seeking touch, but Harry kisses around and down to Eggsy’s thighs where he bloody bites the younger man and leaves dark love bites in the tender flesh there. Eggsy yanks against his bonds and trembles, begging for Harry to “Get on with it guv, _please_!” The older man looks up with amused eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Those three words have Eggsy suddenly doubting his request, but before he can rethink it properly, Harry has swallowed him down and he knows he’s going to lose it. Harry’s mouth is like a hot, wet vice around his cock, and that silver tongue is doing things he’s never felt before. Eggsy’s chest flushes red with arousal while he blushes at the same time and squirms against Harry’s hands pinning his hips to the bed. The older man takes his time, swallowing and bobbing his head slowly to draw different moans and whimpers from his young lover. He waits until Eggsy’s eyes are closed in desperate pleasure to slowly slick up two fingers and gently prod them against Eggsy’s hole.

The younger man’s eyes fly open in surprise as Harry works first one finger, and then the other inside him. He begins to twist and pump them, curling the fingers teasingly and Eggsy feels his cock throb in Harry’s mouth. This is going to be how he dies, Eggsy thinks. He’s going to die of sexual teasing and frustration and _fuckshitbugger_! “Oh fuck!”

Harry has found his prostate and is torturing it with those clever fingers. He’s circling it, pressing against it and massaging it, flicking his fingers quickly over it. His other hand has moved to squeeze the base of Eggsy’s cock to keep him from coming before Harry is ready for it, and he keeps the younger man there for several long, torturous minutes. Finally adding a third finger, Harry begins to bob his head, ever so slightly scraping his teeth against Eggsy’s cock and making the younger man jump. The boy is a complete mess, writhing and begging incoherently for Harry to “quit bloody teasing and fucking FUCK HIM ALREADY.” The older agent’s lips twitch and he presses firmly against Eggsy’s prostate, making the younger man cry out in desperate frustration. “Say please.”

“ _Please!!!”_

Finally, _finally_ , when Eggsy thinks he won’t be able to make it any longer, Harry withdraws his fingers and takes off his trousers. He rolls a condom onto his own aching erection and crawls back on top of Eggsy. He kisses his lover deeply, tongue fucking his mouth before sliding his cock inch by inch into the boy’s loosened hole.

It’s _heaven_.

Eggsy’s eyes roll back in his head with relief, and Harry has to grip his own base to stave off orgasm. He wants to shag the boy rotten before he totally loses control. When Eggsy opens his eyes again, he sees how dark Harry’s are, even as the man begins to roll his hips and Eggsy loses all ability to think properly. He moans and rocks up to meet Harry’s thrusts, he responds to passionate kisses with his own, eager sloppy ones. The only sounds in the room are their moans and the slap of flesh on flesh as Harry bottoms out with every thrust.

Eggsy wraps his legs around Harry and hooks his ankles together behind the man as Harry speeds up. His cock is seeking that place inside Eggsy that will make him come apart, and as soon as he finds it, he pounds it with all his might. Eggsy sees stars and screams in pleasure, not realizing that Harry has reached between them to stroke his lover’s cock. “Come for me, Eggsy. Come on, come for me, love. Come _now_ ” he purrs in the boy’s ear.

Eggsy obeys. His orgasm rips through him and is so intense that he nearly blacks out from it. Harry milks every drop of cum he can from the boy before tipping over the edge and coming as well. He fills the condom with a groan of pleasure, slowing his pace and coming to a stop. Eggsy’s brain is indefinitely offline as Harry unties him. He’s grinning and giggling on the endorphin high post orgasm, and if he didn’t love butt sex before, he damn sure does now. Eggsy also knows, without a doubt, that he is completely and hopelessly in love with Harry Fucking Hart.


End file.
